


The Hollow Servant

by arthur_pendragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Daegal (Merlin) - Freeform, Episode: s05e08 The Hollow Queen, Jealous Arthur Pendragon, M/M, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/pseuds/arthur_pendragon
Summary: Merlin mourns and Arthur refuses to understand.-(written for the Merlin Canon Fest 2018, episode 508: The Hollow Queen)





	The Hollow Servant

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to my beta, schweet_heart. all remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> the tone of this fic is meant to represent my general feeling towards series 5

“You never did tell me about the girl, Merlin,” Arthur says, ten days after Daegal died just outside the reach of Merlin’s help. “And the reason for your limp.”

Merlin thinks back to his enchanted queen, his erstwhile friend’s near-fatal lie. He’s sure Arthur catches the resulting expression on his face — Arthur seems troubled for a moment, but his frown smooths out and the smirk returns.

“So?” he prompts.

Merlin, in the middle of dusting Arthur’s rooms, doesn’t pause in his investigation of the narrow spaces between the furniture and the walls as he answers, “There was no girl, my lord.”

“Really? Why would Guinevere tell me there was, then?”

Sometimes Arthur can irritate Merlin to no end. “Obviously the queen had no idea what she was talking about. I would know better than her if there were a girl in my life, wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Arthur snaps. Merlin’s heart breaks a little for Arthur’s ignorance, for the complete stranger interrogating him right now. This isn’t the Arthur Merlin has cherished and striven to protect for the best part of a decade. Or perhaps Merlin has simply been viewing the world around him with rose-coloured glasses until now.

“My deepest apologies, sire.”

Arthur sighs. Merlin studiously flaps a duster behind the wardrobe, unwilling to look at this version of his king, and if that blasted dragon was right (and he very much doubts that) his _soulmate_ , who almost seemed to hate him these days.

“What about your limp, then? Were you injured?”

“No, my lord,” Merlin replies. “It is none of your concern.”

“Of course it is. My manservant disappeared for over a day without informing me. And apparently it wasn’t to drink himself stupid at the Rising Sun, of which he’s a habitué. As your king, I command you to tell me the truth.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Merlin mutters under his breath, meeting Arthur’s gaze at last. Some measure of guilt flares up in his stomach; Arthur looks the tiniest bit helpless, as if he was only trying to make conversation with Merlin and failed miserably in his endeavour. No matter. He wanted the truth, and he shall obtain it.

“I was with Daegal, my lord,” Merlin says sullenly. “The boy who died saving your life.”

“Oh,” Arthur says. He draws up short. “Do you mean to say it was — that it was that boy who gave you the limp? Was he buggering you?”

Merlin frowns, bewildered; how the hell did Arthur make _that_ leap? Regardless, he really isn’t in the mood to field Arthur’s arrogant demands this morning, so he responds, “Do you _really_ wish to know, sire?” and drops the duster at once, storming out of the room and leaving Arthur stunned in his wake.

* * *

 

Merlin’s frustration with Arthur does not abate over the next few days. He has never been a more perfect servant than he is now, silent, subservient, efficient. Arthur doesn’t try to engage him in conversation anymore. Whenever they are in the same room, he seems content to observe Merlin with an inscrutable gaze while seamlessly involved in conversation with the queen or Gaius or whoever is vying for his attention at that moment. Merlin doesn’t pretend to care.

People are dying left and right for the sake of the king and his vision of the future, and Merlin would have been happy with an iota of attention before this; he wants nothing more than to help Arthur bring his ideas into reality. But Arthur would rather dismiss him summarily and take the advice of _fools_ , keep trusting everyone blindly except _Merlin_ —

His vision blurs; Daegal’s final, desperate plea for approbation still rings in his ears, his needless death indelible blood on Merlin’s hands.

“Merlin,” he hears behind him. Merlin hastily rubs at his cheeks and turns to find Arthur standing in his doorway.

“Yes, my lord,” he says, standing up immediately. Good to know Arthur still remembers where Merlin’s room is.

“Enough of this _my lord_ business. Do you know how unbearable you’ve been recently?”

“Haven’t I always been unbearable?”

“Believe me, I thought so, too.” Arthur strides into the room to stand in front of Merlin with his arms folded. “Have you been _crying_?”

“No,” Merlin retorts. His cheeks are rubbed red raw, and his eyes are still glistening with unshed grief over all the terror he has borne since he first came to Camelot.

“Merlin, I — is this over that boy you were shagging?”

“His name was Daegal,” the words burst forth uncontrollably from Merlin. “He died for you; the least you could do is remember his name.”

It’s unfair of him to ask that of Arthur, who’s grown up his entire life knowing that people will lay down their lives for him, and that sometimes it’s better not to know their names lest your heart rend itself to pieces too soon and make you unfit to rule — but Daegal had been just a _boy_ , alone in the world, with a mother executed for the same crime Merlin commits just by existing. Just someone desperate for some coin with the terrible misfortune to be caught in the crossfire between Merlin and Morgana.

Arthur looks stricken. “Merlin…”

“I’m sorry, my lord. I spoke out of turn and willingly accept any punishment you deem fit for me.” Merlin ducks his head to hide the stubborn wetness of his eyes.

“ _Merlin_. What is this? When have you _ever_ apologised for giving me a piece of your mind?” And before Merlin can respond, Arthur encroaches upon his space and tips his chin up with a finger. “Did you love him?”

“No,” Merlin scoffs, confused again. “I don’t need to have loved him to mourn him!”

“Merlin, the only reason I asked you and not the guards to bury _Daegal_ was because you would have done it with the dignity he deserved. If I had known that it would trouble your heart so much —” Arthur’s leaning in, perhaps to touch their foreheads together the way knights in mourning did when they lost a brother, but Merlin doesn’t want _any_ of that, he just wants Arthur _gone_ —

“Shut up, Arthur,” he says, his voice coming out as if Arthur has his hands around his neck, “and if you don’t have more useless chores for me, just leave me alone until dinnertime.” _I am so close to hating you, I am so close!_

But Arthur doesn’t listen to him — when does he ever — and instead thumbs at the traitorous tears on Merlin’s cheeks and kisses his mouth.

With a shock, Merlin realises that Arthur still believes he and Daegal were lovers, that for some godforsaken reason he dislikes that notion, is _jealous_. He clutches Arthur’s tunic to push him away and explain himself properly but Arthur takes it as encouragement and licks at Merlin’s lips with a soft sigh.

He would kiss Arthur back. He really would on any other day, because he is a hopeless, lovelorn creature who would debase himself so; but today he is too sorrowful. He clutches Arthur’s jaw instead, and tenderly separates their mouths.

“No,” he says. “Why would you do this? Why would you kiss me?”

“I could replace him,” Arthur says, obstinate, staring intensely into Merlin’s eyes. “I could do whatever Daegal used to do with you. You need only give the word.”

“We weren’t — we didn’t do what you think we did, Arthur. Stop this.” And why do you _want_ to take his place? Aren’t you married to the love of your life, the woman for whom you defied your father and broke the rules?

“Why do you weep so much for him, then?”

No sound emerges from Merlin’s throat. How can he explain now? How can he utter a single word without condemning himself to death?

Arthur kisses his forehead and draws him into an embrace. “I’ll be him,” he promises. “I’ll kiss you and fuck you if you want.”

Merlin shivers in his unfamiliar king’s arms. “All right,” he whispers. “Then I’ll be the queen; I’ll kiss and fuck you, too.” Arthur’s arms tighten around him, and when Merlin raises his head, Arthur’s waiting for his mouth.


End file.
